


First-Rate Breach of Trust

by NightWithoutStars



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hannibal reads it, Humour, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Will writes a diary, and driven mad, and gets tricked, might not actually be funny because I'm german and have a weird sense of humour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27906613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightWithoutStars/pseuds/NightWithoutStars
Summary: Of course, Hannibal would be unable to keep his hands off Will's diary.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 175





	First-Rate Breach of Trust

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Mark Uwe Kling's Kangaroo Chronicles (Chapter: Razupaltuff). If you're German, you know it, if not, there is a translation available on Amazon (but it's not as funny).

"Mylimasis, have you seen my Loro Piana sweater?"

Will lifted his gaze from the pages of his diary, only to be greeted by the sight of a very naked, very gorgeous cannibal. _God_ , it was as though Hannibal's ass had a gravitational force of its own. The muscles were pronounced beneath his skin, trained by daily jogs and occasional gym visits. At once, Will's mouth appeared to be drier than the Sahara. Even after two years of sexual relations, the man's body still provoked such a strong reaction in him. 

"Will?" Hannibal turned, presenting a _substantial_ part of his body to his already blushing husband. A smirk appeared on his lips, as he evaluated the other's heated face.

"No", Will croaked, before clearing his throat, "the black one?"

The older man's eyes narrowed, gaze pinning Will down, assessing a myriad of possibilities concerning the fate of his beloved sweater. 

"Will. Did you take it?"

Fighting the urge to fidget, the suspect vehemently denied all accusation: "No! You told me it was your favourite and I respect that."

Hannibal approached the bed, where his naked husband was comfortably leaning against the headboard. Carefully, he placed a knee on the far end of the king-sized mattress, his hands gliding over the expensive sheets. 

"Are you certain?" The smirk broadened into a toothy grin, one which was usually solely reserved for murder. Strong, skilled hands traced Will's ankles below the covers, as the man crawled upwards in a predatory manner.

"Positive", Will squeaked, slamming the notebook shut with a loud thud.

"Because if you did, I would have to rate it as a first-rate breach of trust", Hannibal was now mere inches away from his face, his breath fanning over his lips softly, "and act accordingly."

The younger man shook his head with a smile of his own. "Well, sorry to disappoint, but I didn't take it."

"Shame. Then this house must be haunted."

Will gave a startled laugh at that: "You mean we will get a visit from some bloodied, ten-year-old twins in our sleep, who will murder us? Perhaps we should buy a crucifix and some salt to protect our innocent lives."

With a huff, Hannibal rolled off his husband and stood from the bed. "You watch too much television."

His husband stood as well, notebook in one hand, pen in the other. 

"What is that?" The doctor arched a brow at the unfamiliar book, noting with amusement that Will had stolen the engraved pen from his desk. 

"I've decided to start writing a diary. Every day, I have so many valuable thoughts, which should be documented for future generations. If we are ever in a monetary pinch, I plan on selling it as a self-help book for struggling spouses. The title will be: How murder saved my relationship." Will frowned. "Though admittedly, the title needs some working on."

"May I read it?" Hannibal queried, insatiable curiosity in his eyes. Such a look had once ended Will's questionable career as an FBI profiler.

"No", Will laughed, "and I must warn you. Should you read it, I will count it as a first-rate breach of trust."

A mocking glint appeared in his eyes, as he proceeded to lock the diary in the drawer of his nightstand. Then, the younger man sauntered off towards the bathroom, without sparing his husband a second glance. 

The key was still in the lock. 

Hannibal frowned, his tongue darting over his lips. His fingers itched to open the drawer and find out all those precious thoughts inside his husband's head. Since the fall, there had been an unspoken promise between them, to never keep anything from the other. What could Will possibly hide from him? Sexual fantasies? Will had been rather shy when it came to his less conventional kinks. Even the love for leather and ropes had taken almost a year to be admitted in a quiet whisper. 

All his senses screamed for caution. From countless hunts, Hannibal had learned to listen to his instincts.

The sound of running water, accompanied by soft notes of lavender indicated that the younger man intended to wash his hair - a process which would at least take ten minutes. Ten minutes to catch a glimpse of the unspoken things between the two of them. 

He opened the drawer, regardless of any gut instincts. The notebook inside was obviously cheap, probably bought at the local supermarket together with a heinous bag of chips. (Hannibal could simply not comprehend how his husband could consume such greasy monstrosities, made entirely from chemicals.) 

Surprisingly, only the first page was filled, reducing his guilt significantly. He would simply find out what the general gist of Will's secrets was, without encroaching too severely upon his privacy. This would be a singular occurrence. 

_Stupid Diary,_

_the thought of having to revisit my past, moronic thoughts at a later point is a looming horror. For example, today, while perusing Hannibal's philosophic book collection, I happened upon the works of one Immanuel Kant. In a horrific thought process, which I do not wish to revisit, I began to wonder what the lessons at colleges must look like. Hormone riddled teenagers being exposed to a man, whose name could very well be a sexual reference, can never be good for the teacher._

_Two hours ago, I decided to get a dog from the local shelter. Despite Hannibal's vehement protests concerning the acquisition of a dog, I will get one. One that will shed as much as possible and get fur all over those expensive three-piece suits. Hanni looks much better in sweatpants anyway. Additionally, I have decided to name the dog Shark. That way, our trips to Sydney's beaches will bring some entertainment. The look of hundreds of tourists - who have probably watched Jaws the night prior - trampling each other in an attempt to get out of the water should be hilarious._

_Unfortunately, Hannibal interrupted this particular thought process. I swear that man's sexual appetite is insatiable. My ass still hurt from yesterday and I will possibly not be able to walk properly for the rest of the day. So, the shelter will have to wait until tomorrow._

_Ah, stupid diary, I have to admit that I only started writing to you because I shrunk Hannibal's favourite cashmere sweater - the black one, from Loro Piana - and because I knew that he would be unable to resist reading you. Hah! I played you like a fiddle there, didn't I, Hannibal? Actually, scratch that. Fiddles are quite hard to learn. I played you like the cheap kazoo that you are! Though I hate to say it, I told you that buying a 6,000$ sweater would be a bad investment, especially if you expect me to do the laundry at any point._

_Anyway, now you know that it was me, who ruined and then threw away your sweater. However, you can't throw a tantrum now, nor go on a murder spree, as you would have to admit that you secretly read my diary - then we would be even in terms of the first-rate breach of trust, which would mean you wouldn't be able to get mad or disappointed at me. No matter which path you choose, it will drive you mad :)_

_Have a nice day, stupid diary!_

_P.S. I love you Hannibal, and I will definitively make it up to you tonight (if you catch my drift) but of course, you won't actually know what brought this special occasion on (but you will) and will therefore be surprised (you won't, but you will appreciate it nonetheless)._

When Will finally exited the bathroom a suspiciously long thirty minutes later, he wore a smug smile with a knowing edge.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!!


End file.
